Mission to the Hellmouth
by etienneofthewestwind
Summary: Le Creuset sends a team to steal the G-weapon data from the Sunnydale base. Soldiers, civilians and Blue Cosmos? Expected obstacles. Demons, Slayers and deranged sexbots? Not quite. But in a war without neutrality, every thing has its day. AU both series.


**Mission to the Hellmouth  
by étienneofthewestwind**

**SUMMARY: **Le Creuset sends a team to steal the G-weapons' data from the Sunnydale, CA base. Soldiers, civilians and Blue Cosmos? Expected obstacles. Demons, Slayers and deranged sexbots? Not quite. But in a war without neutrality, everything has its day. AU both series. Elements from Angel.

**DISCLAIMER: **I only own my folding, spindling and mutilating of the cannons and characters herein.

* * *

**1-31-7****1**** CE, Atlantic Federation, somewhere in Southern California:**

The city got worse the deeper they walked in. Buildings fell steadily into a state of disrepair, and only a few of the streetlamps worked; the bulbs were either dead, broken, or the wiring had been blatantly stolen. An occasional fire flickered in waste barrels. People slept in the alleys and condemned buildings. Nicol gazed at them, his brown eyes glittering sadly.

"They brought it upon themselves," the tall blonde at his side murmured.

The teen looked up at the mission leader. Twenty year-old Miguel Aiman, also known as The Magic Bullet of Dusk, had been his flight instructor at the ZAFT academy. "Even the children?" Nicol asked him quietly. No one responded to the fourteen year-old's question.

Nicol quickly surveyed the rest of the infiltration team: navy-haired Athrun Zala, top of Nicol's class at the ZAFT academy, and a rather quiet sixteen year-old. Yzak Jule, a silver-haired, temperamental loudmouth who graduated a close second in the aforementioned class. The seventeen year-old made no effort to hide his displeasure at that placing, and their mutual assignment to the Le Creuset team had accelerated Yzak's rivalry towards Athrun. And despite Athrun's mild reactions to Yzak's face, Nicol had seen enough in private not to mistake that rivalry as one-sided.

After Yzak came Dearka Elsman, a blonde as tall as Miguel, with brown skin and purple eyes. With a tendency towards laziness, and a somewhat laidback attitude towards war and destruction, the seventeen year-old had somehow found the effort to take the third slot at graduation. Next to him walked Rusty McKenzie, an outgoing redhead that graduated in fourth place. Nicol supposed Rusty was likable enough, but the sixteen year-old had an annoying habit of adopting other people's opinions.

And then there was Nicol himself: small and clumsy, he had found himself thrown in with an entire class of boys who seemed more sure of the world and themselves then Nicol felt. But somehow, as Nicol slugged through the obstacle and piloting courses, he had found some self-confidence and graduated fifth. He still felt awkward around the pilots who seemed less concerned about the people affected by the war, though.

Still, he was one of the top five. The elite. He may have barely reached the cutoff for the red uniform, but he had reached it. And with it, an assignment to the Le Creuset team, a prestigious placing under a decorated commander. Achievements he took pride in, even if his parents had preferred he get some supply post away from the frontlines. His mother, anyway. His father had kept silent about Nicol's ZAFT career, only apologizing when the National Defense Committee made choices that increased the likelihood of Nicol's getting sent into combat.

"Don't walk like that," Yzak growled to Athrun. "It's annoying."

Despite his pride, Nicol sometimes wished Le Creuset had not taken _all _of his class' elites.

The wind picked up, and Nicol zipped his windbreaker further up. The artificial enclosures of the space colonies had controllable climates. The PLANTs enjoyed a steady temperature range that fell in between twenty and twenty-two degrees Celsius. Rain occurred regularly as humidity built up in the atmosphere, but at predictable times with short duration. Nor did it fall as heavily as that 'light' storm that prompted Yzak's loud complaints--which in turn roused suspicions at that coastal town a few kilometers up from where they had climbed ashore.

_We're in over our heads. _Nicol thought, and not for the first time. No one, not even the overconfident Yzak, had expected this mission to be easy: infiltrate enemy territory, make their way to the Sunnydale, California military base, somehow break in unnoticed, and acquire the data of the weapons under development there. And, of course, they needed to make a clean escape afterwards.

Their nighttime swim from the submarine carrier that brought them near Atlantic Federation waters had wracked Nicol's nerves. They had to avoid being sighted by enemy patrols, and hope that long-distance sonar would mistake them for dolphins or another sea creature. Then they had to find a secluded stretch of beach to land upon and dump their SCUBA gear. They had all received a few sets of civilian clothes, toiletries, counterfeit credit cards and a small amount of untraceable currency in water-tight swim bags, but no knowledge of how frequently or well the coast was patrolled. The Aiman team had lucked out when they found a small cave to shelter in while they changed.

The swim in had been the easy part.

The six ZAFT soldiers had been born and raised in space. While the majority of the PLANTs' sponsorship--and more than a few of its settlers--came from the Atlantic Federation, the cultures did not match. Between an alien environment and different customs, the travelers had attracted more attention then they liked. Though they had managed to avoid police or military attention.

So far.

The wind grew stronger, which made it feel colder. They passed an outdoor thermometer. Unfortunately, the archaic thing only displayed the Fahrenheit scale. _Who still uses that? _Nicol frowned up at the thing. _Outside of math problems and scientific history lessons, anyway._ Nicol bit his lip, thinking back to his own math and science studies. _Doesn't 68° F equal 20° C? So that would put the current temp in the low teens?_

_Whatever. Cold is cold, _he decided.

At least his joints felt better. Despite their ascent breaks, as the group walked away from the beach Nicol's knees and elbows had started a dull ache that signaled a minor case of decompression sickness. It did not compare to his first EVA training session at the academy when his pressure suit had only maintained eighty percent of its intended pressure, though. As Yzak and Dearka seemed to find him cowardly, Nicol no wish to seem weak.

Though the way Yzak had kept massaging his shoulders during the day suggested that the arrogant elite had his own problem with the pressure difference.

"There," Miguel spoke softly as he stopped walking. He indicated a bus station up the block.

"We haven't found anything running yet," Yzak complained.

"This one's open. And even if we have to walk all the way to Sunnydale, we've been going close to twenty hours. I, for one, would rather sleep indoors."

Nicol agreed with Miguel's sentiments, but… "Don't you think everyone outside would too? I doubt they--"

"They won't do anything if they think we're paying customers," Dearka cut him off and strode towards the door. Nicol sighed as the group followed him.

The station was packed, with every seat occupied. Additionally, people slept slumped against the walls. To the left a ticket booth had one woman with dirty blond hair leaning on her hand behind the window. A few other cashier spots stood empty. Above her head was a schedule of bus departures. From the number listed, they were either packing the buses or letting some of the homeless sleep in the station. _Probably both, _Nicol decided as he got a closer look at some of the sleeping, and their battered carts full of belongings. Miguel led the way over, passing a twenty-something brunette woman in a long, frilly yellow dress with short sleeves. She sat on a chair with a white-gowned doll on her lap and a black backpack at her feet. Nicol frowned when he saw that she had no coat.

The group reached the window. Nicol silently read the board. None of the scheduled departures went to Sunnydale. "Rusty, do you still have the map?" Miguel asked.

The woman behind the counter looked up. "Can I help you gentlemen?" she asked, sounding bored.

"Yes," Miguel replied. "We're trying to get to Sunnydale. Can you tell me if any of these destinations have buses there?"

The woman frowned and surveyed the group of Coordinators. "What business do you have at the Hellmouth?" she asked.

"Hellmouth?" Yzak asked.

Dearka stomped on Yzak's foot. Athrun quickly spoke up. "It's a geological formation associated with some unusual phenomena--something about the magnetic fields of the ore. Anyway, the town's original settler's called it _La __Boca del Infierno_."

"The Mouth of Hell," Rusty translated. "Must have been a cheery bunch."

"Actually, the Spaniards called the entire town that," the woman stated as she studied Athrun. "Though I'm surprised you know that much. Generally people try to forget Sunnydale or they never leave it."

Athrun shrugged. "A classmate at Standfelt Prep had family in Sunnydale."

"Standfelt?" The woman frowned.

"Standfelt Military Preparatory School in Copernicus City. I attended it for my primary and the first few years of secondary schooling."

"See, Miss Edith. Pretty soldiers all in a row, marching off to earn their swords." The woman behind the counter paled and turned to the now-standing brunette. Nicol glanced at the woman as well. Her brown eyes focused on a point behind the infiltration team. The eyes of the doll she held, however, seemed to study the ZAFT group, which sent a cold chill up Nicol's spine even though he knew that it was a trick of the light reflecting off the glass.

"Y-you boys are looking to enlist?" the woman behind the counter asked, her voice wavering. "A recruitment convoy's coming through in a couple of days. You can just wait for them."

"Thanks," Miguel replied, "but we'd rather go now."

"There is a base in Sunnydale," the ticket woman persisted, "but it's minor and mainly some sort of research facility. You should go to the main California base on the coast. That's where you'd be sent for training, anyway."

"Thanks," Miguel replied. "But--" he pulled Nicol in front of him and leaned on his shoulder-- "my cousin's too young to join." Nicol twitched in annoyance. He knew he looked younger than his age, but why did Miguel always have to find some way to point that out? "I want to see if he can stay with--"

"No!" the ticket woman protested sharply. "I'm from Sunnydale, and it's not a safe place for strangers moving in."

"Annie," the brunette locked her eyes with the shaking blonde. "Give the nice boys what they want."

The woman paled and swallowed hard. "Fine," she slapped six tickets into the tray under her window. "This is the next town over. You can catch a _daytime _shuttle bus from there."

"Thanks," Miguel said. "How much do I owe you?"

"Just take them! And you're all never, ever invited into my home!"

_Huh? _Nicol thought as he stared at the woman.

"…Okay," Miguel replied as he picked up the tickets. He looked at them, then the board. "It's loading now. Come on."

They walked through the station and out the back. "Is it just me," Rusty asked softly as they approached the bus, "or was that weird, even considering where we are?"

"Oh, yeah," Dearka replied. "Naturals aren't usually_ tha_--"

"Watch your tongue!" Miguel hissed. He waved a small palm computer around. "Just because you think we're alone, doesn't mean we can't be heard. Though," he gave a relieved sigh as he closed the handheld. "It looks like the security monitors here are faulty. Just watch your mouth in the future. You too Athrun."

"Me?" the blue-haired youth spluttered.

"Copernicus City is Atlantic Federation territory. What if the conversation led to details that someone familiar with the school or area could contradict?"

"Not a problem. I--"

"I don't care what you've looked up!" Miguel cut him off. "For all our research and briefing, we're having enough problems fitting in without inviting more trouble."

"But I _di_--"

"Enough!" Miguel snapped. Before anyone else could say anything, a purple haired man walked out of the building. Miguel led the group over to the waiting bus. A few were all ready onboard, scattered around the middle of the bus. The group settled in the back. Rusty immediately closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat next to Miguel. For all his exhaustion, Nicol felt too wound up to immediately go to sleep. As he had some paper, he debated working on his latest composition, but decided he felt too drained. In the seat next to him, Athrun frowned and stared out the window. Yzak glared a book for a minute before stowing it back in his bag. Nicol absently wondered when and where he had gotten the book and what it was about. Beside Yzak, Dearka engrossed himself in some girly magazine. Nicol looked at Miguel in the seat in front of him. Their leader seemed to be watching everyone on the bus, though it was hard to tell.

* * *

_Now Entering Sunnydale  
Welcome to the Hellmouth_

Yzak scowled at the battered sign framed by the setting sun. A stupid, pale yellow thing, its red lettering looked way too cheerful.

Yzak hated this mission. He trained as a pilot, damn it, not a spy. Nothing about the Naturals' stupid planet appealed to him. The air was salty, the weather crazy, and the settlements sprawled to insane widths. The stronger gravity wore him out. And he had been stuck on this damn bus for hours. Besides offering less comfort then the previous one, it blew out a tire midway. They would have made better time walking from the last town.

But by far, the most loathsome aspect was the people they came across. The Atlantic Federation, as one of the PLANTs' sponsor nations, had conspired to drain Coordinators dry: demanding increasingly higher quotas of production while cutting the amount of food they delivered. And when the PLANTs finally had enough and moved towards independence by producing their own food, the newly-formed Earth Alliance nuked one of their four agricultural colonies less than a year later. The PLANTs could have retaliated in kind, but instead they took the high road and seeded the planet with neutron-jammers, devices that blocked the movement of neutrons necessary for all fission reactions. The damn Naturals should at least have the courtesy to acknowledge that and act like citizens of an imperialistic party. But no, they had to call _ZAFT _invaders and bitch and moan about the PLANTs causing a damn economic depression.

"OH QUIT BELLY-ACHING ALL READY!"

Yzak breathed a sigh of relief as someone beat him to an explosion. The poor quality of sleep on the last bus had left him irritable.

Not that he could honestly claim a reputation as even-tempered.

"YOU'RE NOT THE ONLY ONES TO SUFFER UNDER THE N-JAMMERS!" the shrill woman continued, her bony finger wagging at the group of complainers. Her dull red hair with two-inch gray and brown roots hid her face from Yzak's view. "SO DON'T GO ACTING LIKE YOU'RE THOSE MONSTERS' ONLY VICTIM!"

"MONSTERS! WOULD YOU RATHER BE NUKED?"

_Oh shit, _the now-standing Yzak thought as he found the entire bus staring at him. Including the clearly pissed off Miguel Aiman. And the bus driver. Mortified, he snapped, "WATCH THE ROAD!" before sitting back down.

At the same time he spoke, the woman snapped at him. "IT'S QUICKER THAN STARVATION!" Her brown eyes pierced through Yzak's skull.

"You're not starving," a gray-haired man, probably in his mid-forties told her. He sounded bored rather than upset. He wore a business suit and never looked up from his book. "While severe, the crop loss was not enough to affect this region. The real famines are in Eurasia, East Asia and south of the border."

"Famines?" Nicol asked.

Miguel scowled at the youngest pilot while the middle-aged man scoffed and asked mockingly: "You didn't think all the food shortages were due to the fighting did you?"

"Well, yeah," some kid from the front of the bus spoke up. "Aren't the big problems at the refugee camps? We just have periodic rationing."

"The fighting certainly hasn't helped," the man replied dryly. "But modern agriculture uses machines to harvest and process crops. Machines need energy, and in some parts of the world, it was generated by the local nuclear plant." The bus turned the corner and slowed in front of a building. "Ditto for the factories that make prepackaged foods."

"See!" the woman with the old dye job exclaimed triumphantly. "The PLANTs _are_ starving us!"

_Bitchy hag, _Yzak thought._ At least she quit yelling._

As the bus stopped, the gray haired man closed his book and stood. He looked the hag up and down. "A little hardship isn't starving. And at least the land wasn't irradiated. It will grow crops again." He walked out of the bus. The ZAFT group quickly followed, and the driver closed the doors immediately behind Rusty.

"I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN YOU'D ALL GET OFF HERE!" the bitch hollered out a window as the bus began pulling forward. "MONSTER-LOV--"

Miguel led the team away from the bus station at a walk just short of running. After several blocks, well lit for a change, he grabbed Yzak's arm and pulled him into the entrance of a deserted parking garage. "I'm only saying this once," he hissed softly. "Swallow that damn temper, or we're all dead."

Yzak scowled back at him. It was bad enough that he had lost it. He did not need Miguel harping on it, especially when the woman deserved to have her tongue cut out. "What she said was--"

"A common enough opinion here. Note that no one else challenged it directly. We're lucky that man agreed with some of what you said. Now if you can't ignore the Naturals' talk, you'll have to stay inside while we survey the base." Miguel sighed. "Assuming we can find a hotel for us to work out of."

"I think we can," Rusty said. "This town seems to have more open shops than any we've seen so far."

"It's a military town," Dearka pointed out. "The government will make sure that the base and the businesses that support it receive paychecks. Even if the pay's crappy, it must get spent in the town. But I doubt they use many hotels that aren't by the hour."

"Yeah, you're right," Rusty frowned.

"It's better than the street," Miguel replied. "Though let's not give up until after we've searched. If the data Morrison acquired is accurate, we should find something in this area. The bus station is the northwest corner of a downtown area called the Country Club Plaza. Along with shops, it has--or had--a few hotels and other tourist attractions."

Before the group resumed their search, Nicol spoke up, "Is it just me, or does this town seem off? Compared to the others we've passed through," he elaborated as the rest of the group looked at him. "And not just that it's less run-down."

"Off as in wrong and creepy?" Athrun asked him.

Yzak smirked, pleased that the damn mission was getting to someone else. "Getting nervous? Nicol, I can believe, but that's unlike you."

The green-eyed boy rudely refused to acknowledge the jab as he continued looking towards Nicol. "The Hellmouth's field is supposed to cause unpleasant sensations in some people. You're the most sensitive to environmental change--"

Something large and tan landed in front of Yzak and threw Athrun into a gray support column. Before any of the Coordinators could react, the tan form, which turned out to be a muscular man in a trench coat, slugged Athrun in the stomach as the blue-haired elite slid to the ground. Yzak and the rest rushed forward to stop the man. Two more people: a blond man and a pink-haired woman, jumped between them and Athrun. Their faces looked deformed--pronounced brow with ridges between their yellow eyes. As the pair attacked the ZAFT group, Yzak saw Athrun's attacker lift up the blue-haired elite and tear the shirt away from his neck.

Yzak found himself facing off against the woman, who seemed to match or surpass him in strength. _What the hell? Naturals shouldn't do that. Even freaks of nature._ The blond intercepted a punch that Nicol had aimed at the woman, and pulled the green-haired pilot off balance. His free hand soon squeezed the front of the Nicol's throat. As Yzak ducked a punch, he noticed two more men sparing with Rusty and Dearka. Miguel raced towards Athrun's attacker, having slipped past Yzak and Nicol's opponents. A pair of orange-haired twins intercepted him.

The pink-haired woman seized the back of Yzak's backpack and pulled forward. Yzak stumbled and managed to slip his arms free of the bag. The woman smirked and tossed the bag at him. Yzak dodged it and threw a punch. The woman ducked and attempted to knee him in the groin. Yzak stepped to the side, but took a blow that made his left thigh numb. Nicol kicked the blonde's legs, and upset the guy's balance enough to wrench his throat free from his opponent's grasp. Yzak heard the green-haired pilot coughing as he pulled a utility knife from his pocket before he lunged at blond man. The woman swung at Yzak, distracting him from Nicol's battle.

"SLAY HER!" One of the attackers suddenly shouted.

_Her? _Yzak wondered in the corner of his head. He threw another punch--

And blinked as the woman he fought with suddenly vanished. In his place, stood another blonde guy--this one in a black leather jacket. Miguel was wheezing on the ground, but the orange haired twins had vanished. A blond woman lifted Athrun's attacker up off of him. The man twisted free, spun around and punched at her face. The woman caught the punch without any trouble. The man in black leather pulled Nicol's attacker away from him. "TRAITOR!" the first blond guy shouted at the one who came to the Aiman team's aid. Yzak turned to help Rusty and Dearka. A group of four--three boys and a girl around the age of the five ZAFT elites--intercepted Rusty and Dearka's opponents. Yzak noticed that a gritty dust had coated his clothes. He absently brushed it off.

"Traitor?" the blond in black, scoffed. "That bloody hurts," he continued sarcastically. "Besides, tourists are off limits."

"_TOURISTS? _I've _seen_ a photo of him with the Slayer!" The first blond pointed at Athrun, who sat against the support column, right hand holding the left side of his neck. A trickle of blood ran between his fingers. Yzak grabbed his backpack and rushed to his side. "And he was yammering about the Hellmouth!"

"What did he cut you with?" Yzak asked Athrun as he grabbed a spare shirt from his bag to apply more pressure.

"Bit me," Athrun replied. "So fast… I couldn't…" The blond woman walked back from where she had fought the guy in the tan coat. Her opponent had vanished.

"Yeah, it was some blitz attack." As Yzak pulled back Athrun's hand to look at the wound, he realized that his fellow elite had lost some skin tone and trembled slightly. Athrun had never seemed so shaken after any of his previous close calls. _Of course, he'd never taken disabling blows before we realized an enemy presence. _ Yzak turned his attention back to the wound. He saw indentations in the skin that looked like tooth marks, with two puncture holes where the upper canines would be. A small amount of blood seeped out of the holes, but they had mostly clotted over. "Doesn't look like you bled much," Yzak observed as he held the shirt against the wound.

"He drank most of it."

_What? _Yzak blinked and looked up from the wound.

"I… heard him swallowing."

"Oh," Yzak replied. "That's…" _Creepy._ "…Disgusting."

"Yeah," Athrun replied tightly. "Is everyone else alright?"

Before Yzak could answer, a shadow fell over his light as he searched for his first aid supplies. The girl from the group of teens had walked over to them. She had auburn hair and wore blue jeans with a matching jacket and dark orange shirt. A clear blue crystal on a silver chain hung around her neck. "I have a first aid kit," she said. Over her shoulder, Yzak saw Nicol and a boy with short, wavy brown hair help Miguel to his feet.

"So do I," Yzak retorted as he finally grabbed the plastic bag. Thankfully nothing had broken from the bag's getting thrown about.

"Oh," the girl replied pleasantly. "Can I help?"

_It's bad enough we had to be rescued by Naturals. _"I've got it," Yzak growled as he pulled out a small bottle of isopropyl alcohol. He poured some on a small foam pad to clean the wound. The Coordinator immune system should prevent Athrun's death from an infected skin wound, but he could still get sick enough to slow them down. Besides, Naturals were a virulent breeding ground for germs that evolved in response to the increasingly aggressive treatments Naturals had to resort to in response to said germs' evolution. It was a nasty, self-fueling cycle, and Yzak thought it was possible that the Natural hosts could someday spawn a mutant bacteria that would kill Coordinators. Extremely unlikely, but possible.

The girl's eyes narrowed. "You don't need to be rude."

Yzak tensed at the girl's words and he inadvertently pressed the pad onto Athrun's wound with more force than he intended. As his rival hissed in pain, Yzak opened his mouth.

"You're a Coordinator," a female voice carried clearly through the garage. Stiffening, Yzak looked over to where Rusty and Dearka stood talking to the remaining two teenagers and the two blond adults. "And my cousin," the blond woman continued.

_Huh? _Yzak wondered. A boy with unruly brown hair responded by trying to stab the blond man with a brown object. Yzak frowned as he studied the black-clad blonde. _Didn't he have the mutant brow ridges of those that attacked us? And hadn't he fought with a similar weapon? _ Yzak shrugged the thought off and went back to cleaning Athrun's wound. Everything _had_ happened quickly.

"HEY! You can kill a bloke with that!"

"That's the idea!" Yzak glanced over his shoulder and saw the blond woman move protectively in front of the blond man. The brunette's footsteps echoed through the garage as he tried to doge around the woman and make another attempt on the blonde's life.

"I'm an ally!"

"Who was warned about building sexbots of my cousin!"

_Sexbot? _Yzak raised an eyebrow as he tossed the pad away and fished out his gauze and tape. The term was rather self-explanatory, but nothing Yzak had read on practical robotics ever suggested such an application could be put into use.

"Sexbot? What sexbot?" The blond woman threw an arm affectionately over the blonde's shoulders as she glared at the brunette, her own weapon--it looked like a sharpened piece of wood--at the ready. "Oh. _This _sexbot." The man chuckled nervously as Rusty and Dearka obviously studied the 'woman'. "That's… a funny story, actually."

"Really?" a cold voice asked. "Let's hear it." A blonde identical to the sexbot stood in the entrance to the garage.

"Spikey? Who's she?"

"The real deal, Circuit-slut."

"Spikey's mine!" the sexbot protested as Yzak bandaged Athrun's neck. "You can't have him."

"Honey, I wouldn't want Spike if he were the only male in existence. That's why he had to commission his own Buffy."

"I'm the only Buffy! Right, Spikey?" 'Spikey' didn't answer as Buffy strode over to her twin and Spike. "Spikey!?"

"_I'm _the only Buffy. You're just a pathetic, failed imitation with my name and looks slapped on."

"Spikey?" The robot sounded asked softly, like a child seeking reassurance. "That's not true is it?"

"Well…"

Yzak finished taping the gauze and began packing up his supplies. Athrun placed a hand on Yzak's shoulder and pushed himself up enough to see the sideshow. _I'm not a damn stool. _ Yzak opened his mouth to tell Athrun off.

"Kira?" Athrun whispered, taking Yzak by surprise. The auburn-haired girl gasped and stared at the blue-haired pilot.

"Torii?" Something green popped up from a pocket on the black shirt worn by Buffy's cousin. "Torii!" A green and yellow robotic bird launched off the brunette's chest, flying towards Yzak. Athrun sat back on the ground as the brunette turned their way.

"Athrun?" Buffy's cousin asked, stepping their way, and attracting the attention of the entire Aiman team and their… unexpected backup. Spike took advantage of the distraction to pull his sexbot off to the side.

The mechanical bird glided over Yzak's head and landed on the hand Athrun held up. "TORII! TORII-TORII!" it chirped.

"It _is _you!" Kira knelt on the ground next to Yzak. "How bad is it?" Kira placed one hand on Athrun's forehead. The other one lightly lifted the corner of the bandage Yzak had taped on. Before Yzak could protest, Kira resealed the edge of the bandage.

"You know him, Kira?" the auburn-haired girl asked.

Kira nodded. "Athrun Zala. My best friend from Standfelt Prep. He's the one who built Torii."

"To-Rii!" the thing proclaimed, bobbing its head. "Torii! Torii!"

"I don't remember it being so vocal," Athrun said, staring down at the bird.

"TORII!"

Yzak groaned. The thing actually sounded offended. _Of all the things he could put his mechanical and programming talents to…_

"It's been three years," Kira pointed out. "He's just happy to see you."

"It doesn't have emotions."

"Hey!" the sexbot suddenly exclaimed. "He went back to the PLANTs! Why's he here?"

The real Buffy suddenly frowned and turned towards Rusty and Dearka. "Kuzzey, call Giles and have him double-check for any apocalyptic signs we've missed."

"Buffy?" the teen with black hair asked.

"Ditzbot II made a damn good point. If that's not an omen, I don't know wha--"

"Hey! I'm smart!" the robotic Buffy protested. "Spikey just said I know _way_ more about fellatio and cunnilingus than some frigid, lackluster bitch of an original could ever conceive of!" Spike visibly gulped, then turned tail and fled as the real Buffy launched herself at him, brown pointy object in hand. The robotic Buffy stepped into her path only to find her arm ripped off and feet knocked out from under her. "Spikey!" she called as she stared after the departing pair, 'Spikey' yelling bloody murder. Literally.

"Like anyone or anything in this town would help _him_," the auburn-haired girl scoffed. She turned back to Yzak and Athrun. "Er…"

"Athrun, this is Miriallia. Miriallia, Athrun and… friend." Kira turned his purple eyes towards Athrun. "S--"

"I hate to break up this touching reunion," Dearka drawled. "And I'm glad you helped chase those guys off, but is this town always like this? Sexbots and street thugs deformed by--what was that stuff again?"

"G-square--Gamma Glipheptin," Kuzzey quickly answered. "The Initiative experimented with it a couple centuries back to enhance soldiers' strength and reflexes. They scrapped it due to high addictiveness, but a few years ago, some dipshit started cooking it up to sell on the street. Some contaminant crept in that affected mental stability and impulse control. Most of the local gangs are hooked, and it shows in our crime rate."

"What's the Initiative?" Rusty asked.

"The Initiative's--was a government research group." The black-haired teen looked uneasy as he answered.

"Do you think you can stand?" Kira asked Athrun. "We really need to get you guys out of here, and fluids into you, if not a transfusion."

"No hospitals!" Athrun protested roughly. "I'm fine." He pushed himself to his feet--and promptly lost balanced and fell into Yzak who had stood at the same time.

"Yeah, just peachy," Kira replied sarcastically as he draped one of Athrun's arms around his shoulders. "There's a café down the street. We can get you something sugary to drink. And proteiny to eat."

"Proteiny isn't a word," Athrun mumbled as he leaned into Kira.

"Maybe it should be," Kira retorted as he began to walk Athrun back to the street. Athrun stumbled when he attempted to move his feet. Reluctantly, Yzak threw Athrun's other arm over his shoulder and helped support the blue-haired Coordinator. He grabbed the straps of both their packs with his free hand. Yzak scowled when it looked like that Miriallia girl was about to offer help, but she just snorted and turned her back to him. "Do you need a doctor?" Kira asked Miguel as they started down the street.

Miguel shook his head. "I'll be fine," he said, frowning at Athrun.

"He'll be too," Kira replied confidently. Miguel just nodded, but Yzak knew that their commander worried about the damage to their mission. "He just needs--" Athrun picked that moment to pass out. His limp body slumped forward. Yzak and Kira quickly gripped his shirt to keep the blue-haired teen from hitting the ground. Nicol and Miriallia quickly grabbed Athrun's feet. As Yzak and Kira adjusted their grip on Athrun, Miguel took the backpacks from Yzak. Fortunately, their destination was not far: a white, two-story brick building thirteen meters away. The front had large windows with stenciled lettering. The windows announced that the place was called the Magic Shop Café--with the Magic Shop just up the stairs. A redhead talked to a mousy blond at the counter of the otherwise deserted café.

They carried Athrun inside as Kira called out, "Anya, we need a Va--G-square special!"

The blonde immediately grabbed a large cup, while saying, "Damn! How long did they feed? He looks dead." She started filling the cup with a green soft drink.

"_Feed_?" Yzak echoed. "Trying to drink all of a person's blood is _normal _around here?"

"The effects of Gamma Glipheptin make addicts susceptible to shared delusions," Miriallia quickly said as they sat the stirring Athrun on a booth bench. They leaned his head over the table. "Some of which center around pop horror."

"What? They think they're vampires?" Dearka joked as the mousy blonde approached the booth, the cup of green stuff in her hands. She threw Dearka a look that Yzak could not decipher.

"Sure, why not?" she said. "Who's paying for this?"

"I am," Kira snatched the cup. "You know I'm good for it," he added as the blonde looked disgruntled. Kira slid the cup under Athrun's head and told him to drink.

"Saline or plasma's extra."

Yzak blinked. _Saline or plasma? As in IV fluids? _He glanced at Miguel and saw an equally thrown look on his leader's face.

"We know Anya," Kuzzey said tiredly as Athrun pulled the some of the drink up through the straw.

"It's too sweet." Athrun complained, making a face.

"You need the sug--"

"Just drink it," Miguel's curt order cut Kira off.

"Buffy! What happened?" The redhead's question drew Yzak's attention to the door. The one-armed sexbot hobbled into the café.

"You're Willow. We're best friends. You're gay."

Willow turned towards Kira. "Does Buffy know Spike--"

"BLOODY HELL, WOMAN! YOU SHOULD BE FLATTER--" Spike's yelling transformed into a high pitched squeal followed by a loud clatter. On the heels of it, Spike rapidly limped past the café in a manner that made Yzak want to cover his groin. Buffy chased after him a second later.

"Oh good," Willow commented absently. She turned away from the front windows and placed a plate of cookies, meat and cheese wraps, and a sealed package of off-white caplets in front of Athrun. "Iron supplements," she said to Athrun's puzzled look. She then walked to the fake Buffy. "Well, let's get you to my workshop." She grabbed the robot's arm and began to lead her away.

"But Spikey's in trouble!" The sexbot pulled away from her.

"If Buffy were going to kill him, she would have done so all ready," Willow told the sexbot, yanking on her arm. Kira and his friends went to help her.

Anya blocked Kira's path. "You haven't paid yet." The brunette Coordinator rolled his eyes and pulled out a turquoise wallet as he followed her to the register. Yzak pushed Athrun to the side and dropped onto the seat next to him. "You guys want anything?" Anya called to the table.

"Give us a minute," Miguel replied as Yzak's stomach growled. Miguel sat on the bench across from Athrun. "It's quite a surprise," he commented quietly, a bite of danger in his words, "to discover you had a friend here."

"Tell me about it," Athrun muttered as he picked at one of the wraps. Rusty sat next to Miguel while Nicol knelt on the bench behind Miguel, his arms resting on the back of the seat as he peered down at Athrun. A Dearka-shaped shadow hit the table in front of Yzak. "When Kira never showed up at the PLANTs, I figured his family relocated to Orb." He sighed as Miguel stared stonily at him. Yzak and the rest of the ZAFT crew also studied their blue-haired comrade intently. "I only met Buffy once, and the name of the town didn't click until that clerk mentioned the word Hellmouth. _You're _the one who wouldn't let me tell you that I really attended Standfelt Prep," Athrun added sullenly before he gulped some more soda.

"How does that work, anyway?" Dearka asked before Miguel could say anything. "Copernicus City is still Atlantic Federation territory."

"My parents were born in the Atlantic Federation," Athrun replied. "My father sent me off to Standfelt when I was five or six and he still believed in attaining autonomy over independence. When I was thirteen and hostilities became likely, called me back."

"Thought you were too good for a PLANT school?" Yzak demanded.

"The PPL tried to bomb his car. He figured I'd be safer on the moon."

"PPL?" Rusty asked. "What's that?"

"We can discuss it later," Miguel said, as Willow and the three teens carried the sexbot--Willow had somehow switched it off--out the door. Yzak frowned. He knew the name PPL from somewhere, and it irked him that he could not place it.

_Stupid exhaustion._

"A bunch of lunatics from the Natural contingent of the PLANT's original settlers," Dearka said, ignoring Miguel's instructions. When Yzak turned to look at him, the blonde had turned to watch Kira and Anya, who were still at register. "They sought to rid the PLANTs of all 'Coordinator taint'. Never mind that George Glenn _designed_ the PLANTs."

_Right, _Yzak realized with a wince. His mother had had her share of trouble from the PLANT Purity League when he was young too.

"A--" Dearka abruptly turned around. "So you left expecting your friend to come to the PLANTs?" he asked loudly as Kira walked towards them.

Athrun nodded.

"Why?" Kira asked as he set a tray of sandwiches on the table. "For the rest of you," he told Aiman team.

Yzak didn't hesitate and quickly grabbed a sandwich and bit down into it. "You're a Coordinator," Athrun replied as Anya brought a pitcher of water and stack of glasses over.

"If you break that booth, you've bought it," she informed Dearka who had leaned over the top of the booth seat--and Yzak's shoulder--to grab a sandwich off the platter. Nicol had opted to ask Miguel to hand him one.

"What does that have to do it?" Kira asked Athrun.

"You belong with your own kind," Dearka sounded like his mouth was full. "Not stuck surrounded by stupid Naturals."

Yzak felt Athrun stiffen up next to him and knew Dearka had made a mistake. Sure enough, Kira's purple eyes grew ice cold. "Naturals aren't stupid," he said as two teens descended the steps from the Magic Shop. The brown-eyed and haired girl bore an unmistakable resemblance to Kira. The blond boy wore a cap that obscured his face. "And I'll thank you not to insult my family." He turned his icy gaze on Athrun. "Or did my Mom, sister and cousins mean nothing to you?"

"Sister?" Athrun asked. "What sister?"

Kira blinked and stared at Athrun, wearing a rather perplexed expression on his face. "Cagalli. You've _met _her several times."

"Cagalli," Athrun repeated blankly. Then: "_Alli_? Your twin's a_ girl_?"

"What did you think I was?" the newest blonde demanded, rapidly approaching the table. As Athrun spluttered, a mortified Yzak realized that the teen he had taken for a boy was, in fact, a girl. And not one who had made any great effort to hide that fact, either. Possibly her face, given how she wore that cap, but not her gender. While the tan slacks and brown coat of whatever school uniform she wore looked boyish, they were clearly cut for a girl's figure. "Well?" Cagalli demanded as she slammed her palms on the edge of the table. "Let's hear it."

"It's just--We were eleven the last time I saw you!" Athrun blurted.

"And you hadn't learned about gender yet?" A muffled snickering from Dearka answered Cagalli's sarcastic quip. Miguel looked amused as well.

"You always ran around in clothes you stole from Kira!" Cagalli continued to glare at Athrun. "For God's sake, you hadn't _grown _yet!" Athrun blurted as he gestured at his chest, sending Dearka into full-fledged laughter.

_"WHAT!?"_

"Like you're not flat enough to get mistaken for a boy _now_," Anya said. "Especially with your crap fashion sense. Now move aside, I want to sell sodas."

Cagalli scowled at Anya, but stepped to the side. "What are you doing here when your homeland's at war with us anyway?" she muttered, still glaring at Athrun. Yzak tensed.

"Isn't that obvious?" The teenage boy with wavy brown hair walked back into the café with Miriallia. "He's going to rescue the Pink Princess."

"Huh?" Kira responded, echoing Yzak's thoughts perfectly.

"Well, she _is_ Athrun's fiancée," the boy replied. "Naturally he'd want to join a rescue mission."

_Fiancée? _Yzak thought. _Does he mean Lacus Clyne? _Here_?_ Lacus Clyne was the daughter of the PLANT Supreme Council's former chairman and a wildly popular pop idol. Last Yzak had heard of her, she was conducting a goodwill survey of the ruins of Junius Seven in advance of some all-star anniversary memorial at the ruins. Personally, Yzak thought cruising through the Debris Belt amounted to begging for a collision.

"What do you mean?" Miguel asked the guy neutrally.

"It's all over the fansites," he replied, producing a laptop that he sat on the table. "And even some mainstream outlets."

Miguel quickly read through whatever was on the screen, a scowl growing as he did so. Over his shoulder, Nicol gasped at something. When he finished, Miguel shot Athrun a sour look and pushed the laptop across the table. "What do you want?" he addressed Tolle.

"Hey, I'm just letting you know how things stand," the boy responded as Yzak peered at the laptop. The open webpage had thumbnail pictures of Lacus bannered across the top, including one with Athrun at her side in what looked suspiciously like his ZAFT dress reds. A list of links ran down the left-hand frame. From the page title, 'Pink Princess' was a nickname for Lacus Clyne among her Atlantic Federation fans. And unless the site padded its membership count, she had a staggering amount considering the sponsor nations had embargoed her songs in protest of her father's pro-autonomy policies.

_Then again, Earth _is_ ridiculously populated. That number's probably miniscule. _

"I mean, she has plenty of fans looking out for her," the wavy-haired brunette continued, "But we can't do all that much..." Yzak leaned closer to read the text in the main frame:

_Pink Princess Political Prisoner!_

_Camp Sunnydale's detention facilities received Lacus Clyne among this week's group of POWs, an anonymous source revealed. The Pink Princess had been transferred under a false name despite her protests, but a fan among the Sunnydale guards recognized her. Her 'records', and those of two other prisoners turned out to be poor forgeries made under an AF military OS. Base officials launched an investigation and discovered that an EAF vessel mistook a civilian ship lurking in the Debris Belt for pirates and attacked. When the Nelson-class crew realized their mistake, they attempted to cover it up by listing the few survivors as captured soldiers, and Clyne's robotic pets as spy devices._

_The _Silverwind _had undertaken a survey trip to Junius Seven's ruins in advance of an anniversary memorial. Clyne was the head of the memorial delegation. Colonel Maggie Walsh, head of Camp Sunnydale's POW unit, has called for an inquiry into the actions leading up to the attack on the _Silverwind_. While she has separated the civilians from the enemy combatants, she has, citing an obscure protocol, refused to relinquish custody of them without solid arrangements to return them home. Unconfirmed rumors suggest Walsh's actions were a reaction to a high-ranked official's the unscrupulous suggestion that Clyne be used as a hostage against her homeland, which adores her as much as her terrestrial fans. Whatever the colonel's motivations, the protocol that allows her to override the orders of higher-ranked officials may get 'revised' if Clyne's fans don't let the government know that we won't stand for her mistreatment. Even then, given the current hostilities, it's unlikely the Pink Princess will see her home soo--_

Athrun pushed the page down button. Underneath the article, a grainy video loop showed Lacus Clyne exiting an Earth Forces shuttle. The pink-haired popstar was shackled and wearing a grey jumpsuit. Other prisoners walked before and behind her, with armed guards in OMNI uniforms on either side of them. Another soldier carried a plastic box full of multi-colored, grapefruit-sized balls. Athrun reached out and ran a hand over her image.

* * *

"I had no idea Tolle could play fanboy nerd so well," Kira commented. He stood on a catwalk over a large underground maintenance bay. Tolle stood next to him. They both stood facing AF Captain Riley Finn, a thirty year-old with sandy brown hair and brown eyes.

"We had to put them at ease somehow," Tolle said. "Lacus' predicament is a good way to earn their trust--You ever find who leaked that story?"

"Tolle..." Riley warned the wavy-haired kid. The Clyne situation was enough of a headache without the demonstrations her fans were organizing. At least the publicity had quieted those who wanted to use her as a hostage against her fans and father. For now.

"Right," Kira muttered. "Anyway, they played along with Tolle's rescue scenario, but--" Kira closed his eyes and sighed. "I've known Athrun for years. He tried to hide it, but he... He didn't even know Lacus'd been captured."

"That's not surprising," Riley commented. "It takes time to infiltrate this deep into enemy territory, and the incident with the _Silverwind _was not that long ago. I'm sure the PLANT government has learned more then we'd like by now, but it's a bit early for an official rescue mission."

"So they're here for..." Kira trailed off as he turned and looked over the balcony. Directly under them lay a shrouded figure with a head that bore a resemblance to ancient samurai armor.

"Possibly," Riley replied. "You guys directed them to the Atlasta Motel?"

"Yes," Tolle responded. "Though I wouldn't be surprised if they went somewhere else. Their leader has a healthy sense of caution."

"He was not happy we found them out," Kira agreed. Tolle turned to him.

"_None _of them where, except your blue-haired friend. He was too thrilled to see you to consider getting turned in."

"Yeah, about that," Kira turned back to Riley. "Do you have to bring them in?"

"Kira--"

"I know maintaining security's important," Kira added hastily. "But couldn't we arrange for them to find false data while rescuing Lacus? Athrun's not going to pass up the chance to rescue her, and I doubt the others would if it got them into the base. And if we can throw off their war effort--"

"You just don't want to feel responsible for getting your friend locked up," Riley said. "Damn it, Ensign! It's better than facing him in combat someday!"

Kira looked away. "That may never happen. And sending the right wrong information--" Tolle snorted at Kira's word choice-- "_will _help our efforts. And it'll get Lacus safely off your hands, which Walsh's wanted since day one."

"It's not either of our calls. But with everything that can go wrong, I don't think that it's worth the risk." Riley sighed. "I will, however, pass your suggestion on. We may observe your friends for additional contacts before we make a move. For all we know, their assignment was to contact an established spy or spies. Whatever's decided, we'll need you to do your part."

Kira closed his eyes and sighed as he nodded. "I understand. I won't pretend it's easy, but… I made my choice when I enlisted."

"Good. Now suit up. We need to finish the neuro-link calibration by Sunday."

"Sir!" Both Tolle and Kira threw quick salutes before they raced to the locker room.

Riley sighed as he watched the pair leave. Despite his resolve, the situation would be rough on Kira. _Of all the people ZAFT could have sent… But of course, this is the Hellmouth. The more painful and unlikely the coincidence, the more likely it is to occur._

* * *

Two hours before dawn, a battered pickup passed Sunnydale's welcome sign and pulled over onto the highway's shoulder. The driver's side door opened, and a brunette in a red trench coat over a yellow dress stepped out. A breeze picked up as she gazed down at the town, smiling. "Yes, this is where the show will be," she muttered. "Sweet Marionettes…" The brunette grabbed a black backpack from the truck and slung it over her shoulder. As she hiked into town, the doll sticking out of her bag's back pocket seemed to stare at the bodies piled in the truck bed. Seven in all, each had their throat ripped out. The top one's face matched the driver's license sitting on the truck's dash: an elderly man who wore a red jacket in the photo.


End file.
